


after-party

by starlightandseaglass



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: Gen, post-s5 e8: the party's over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 03:46:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9417149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightandseaglass/pseuds/starlightandseaglass
Summary: "you watch as your daughter – sweet rory, innocent rory, 19 year old rory, i’ve-never-gotten-drunk-in-my-life-rory – stumbles out of a limo. for a moment you don’t recognize her. your rory doesn’t stay out till 2 am or come home drunk or with an entourage of boys. you don’t know what’s happening."Post 5x08: The Party's Over. Lorelai and Rory talk.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was re-watching Gilmore Girls and was disappointed that we never got to see Lorelai's reaction to Rory's coming home late, drunk, with Logan and the others after 5x08, so I wrote it. Let me know what you think!
> 
> cross-posted to fanfiction.net and tumblr under the same name.

you watch as your daughter – sweet rory, innocent rory, 19 year old rory, i’ve-never-gotten-drunk-in-my-life-rory – stumbles out of a limo. for a moment you don’t recognize her. this girl, this girl who isn’t, who can’t be rory, wears too high heels and too short a skirt, the straps of her dress falling down her shoulders. not-rory wears a lopsided tiara that costs more than you earn in a month, rides in a limo, blows kisses to boys that are too drunk and too pretty and too rich to be people your rory would spend time with. not-rory looks every bit the rich heiress, like she could drop $200 on dinner and not blink an eye, like she looks down on anyone who can’t keep up, like she expects the world handed to her on a platter. not-rory looks like the society girl you were terrified of becoming, the kind of girl you never thought your daughter could be.

you don’t recognize this girl. this can’t be your daughter, can’t be your rory. your rory chooses books over parties any day, chooses club soda over drinks, chooses jeans and a t-shirt over fancy dresses or diamond jewelry. your rory is a small town princess, always sweet and kind and smiling. your rory has a boyfriend who is kind and gentle, who always has her home by 11 and comes over for movie nights. your rory doesn’t stay out till 2 am or come home drunk or with an entourage of boys.

you don’t know what’s happening.

not-rory is at the door now, struggling to fit the key into the lock in her drunken state. you pull the door open for her, and not-rory giggles, grinning at you. “thanks mom,” she slurs, turning to wave at the boys who are climbing back in the limo. “bye!”

you push not-rory into the house, shoving the door closed on the chorus of slurred goodbyes. not-rory pouts as she watches the boys drive away through the window, absentmindedly pushing the straps on her dress back up her shoulder, as if she couldn’t be bothered to care about them before. she turns to you once the limo is out of sight, and she can’t meet your eyes, looks slightly guilty. for a split second, she looks like your rory before it disappears again.

you stare at her, wondering what you should say, what you _can_ say. you don’t know how to deal with things like this. you’ve never had your daughter come home too late, or get drunk, or do crazy things. you don’t know what’s happening to her.

“i think i’m gonna go to bed,” rory-not-rory announces, taking a few stumbling steps towards her room, and finally you find the ability to move, to speak.

you grab her arm, pulling her to a stop. “what the hell, rory?” you demand to know. what was she doing, what was she thinking? where did your daughter go?”

“what mom?” she giggles, pouting, like she doesn’t know what you’re talking about. she twirls a strand of hair around her finger, smiles like nothing is wrong in the world. you feel like shaking her, shaking every part of this wild, crazy, carefree creature out of her until you have your daughter back.

“don’t you give me that, rory,” you snap, your anger flaring. normally, you try to be understanding, try to take your daughter’s side in everything, try to give her the benefit of the doubt, try to hear her side of the story before passing judgement. but this carefree wild child, dripping in diamonds and reeking of alcohol, this isn’t your rory, and you need her back. you need to know what happened to her. “what did you do rory?” you demand. “why the hell are you coming home drunk at 2am? why were you with those boys?”

not-rory shrugs, giggling again. “we were just having some fun mom, relax. the boys are friends, we go to yale together. they were just helping me have a good time,”

“that’s not a good time, rory! this isn’t okay!” you scream. your mind is spinning. you don’t know how to talk to this girl, how to get through to her, how to get your rory back. “what happened? last i heard, you were at your grandparents house for that party. you were upset because they were trying to set you up with some rich boy. how did you end up with _them_?” you spit the word like it’s poisonous, like you can’t even think of the boys that brought your rory home without wanting to murder them.

not-rory (this girl still isn’t your daughter, she can’t be, rory isn’t like this) shrugs, laughs. “the party was boring, so we went to the pool house, formed a sub-party. when everyone started to leave, we decided to go to a pub, have some more drinks, dance a bit. then they brought me home,”

“why would you think that was a good idea rory?” you can’t even begin to understand  why she would think this is okay, how she can be so casual about all of this. “you don’t know these guys at all,”

“yes i do!” she protests. “logan’s on the paper with me, and i met colin and finn and robert and everyone at that life and death brigade event logan took me to,”

you roll your eyes. you’re not convinced that life and death brigade event was a good idea either. and even if she’s met them before, she shouldn’t be staying out or getting drunk with them or coming home at 2 am. “how did you even get into a pub?” you demand. “you’re not 21,” your grasping at straws, trying to form some sort of understanding, trying to figure out how the girl in front of you could possibly be your daughter.

not-rory giggles like that’s the funniest thing she’s heard in awhile. “it was a restaurant and bar,” she explains, “so they didn’t check id at the door. and the boys bought all my drinks for me,”

you sigh. you don’t know how to get through to this girl. “you can’t do stuff like this rory. i don’t know these people, you don’t know these people. who knows what they wanted from you? you could’ve been hurt!”

“oh my god mom!” she exclaims, throwing her hands up. she takes a step towards you, swaying slightly. she’s extremely drunk. “nothing happened, okay?” she giggles again. “well, finn did try to propose to me at one point, but he moved on pretty fast when he realized i wasn’t a redhead,” she grins at the memory. “i know what you mean, mom, but it wasn’t like that okay? stop worrying,” her grin fades a little bit as she adds, “they were just trying to cheer me up,” she’s still smiling, but for the first time since she came home her eyes look clearer, more alert. sad.

she looks like rory.

“honey, what happened?” you ask, your voice softer, concerned. it’s starting to make sense now – something must have happened to make your daughter act like this. somewhere deep down, this girl is still your daughter, and something must have happened to make her want to drown her sorrows in attention and alcohol and bad company. “why did they need to cheer you up?” you pause, your mind finally catching up. “wait… wasn’t dean supposed to pick you up tonight?”

rory breaks. her sobs are loud and ugly, her entire body shaking with them. you cross the room in two quick strides, pull your daughter into your arms and sink down onto the couch together. through her sobs, you make out the words ‘break up’ and ‘gone’ and after a few minutes, you can piece together what happened. dean saw rory, dripping in jewels and stumbling from the alcohol and followed by a group of crazy rich boys, and realized he didn’t belong there, didn’t belong with rory, didn’t belong in that world.

you agree with him. dean doesn’t belong in that world. you don’t belong in that world. rory doesn’t belong in that world. she doesn’t belong in the world of richard and emily gilmore, of cocktail parties and matchmaking, of trust fund boys and late nights at pubs and stumbling home at 2 am. you ran from that world at 16, left it all behind, were determined that would never be your daughter’s life. you won’t let it be. your daughter is sweet, and kind, and shy, and she doesn’t need to change. she doesn’t need any more nights like this one.

you know that right now isn’t the time for that argument, though, because your daughter is hurting and has just gotten her heartbroken again. tomorrow you can remind her that she isn’t a part of that world, that she should stay away from boys like logan and colin and finn, that all they will do is break her heart. tonight, you pull the tiara out of your daughter’s hair and pull her close and let her cry.

she’s still your daughter. you still have all the time in the world to teach her who she should spend her time with, who she should give her heart to. you still have plenty of time to remind her that she doesn’t belong in the world of parties and matchmaking and boys who get her drunk and bring her home late and make her crazy. you have all the time in the world. you aren’t going to lose her to them, to that world.

tonight, your daughter doesn’t need to hear your warnings or your admonitions. she just needs you to be there.

(you hope it’s enough)

(when you find her making out with Logan at your parents’ vow renewal, you realize that your time is up, she’s in too deep now. you should have said something sooner)


End file.
